BANGKOK — Sometimes you need a vacation from the rigors of traveling and being out on the road. I know, it sounds absurd. In fact, if I were back home right now slaving away at my old job and heard someone say such a thing, I’d probably be tempted to smack them across the face. But that doesn’t change the fact that traveling is exhausting — both mentally and physically — and begins to wear you down after a while.

Having spent more than a month going nonstop everyday through Burma, down the Malay Peninsula to Singapore, and then back up through Malaysia to Penang, we decided we were in need of a little break from the road. And since getting back to Bangkok would require us to pass through southern Thailand’s fabled beach towns and islands anyway, what better place we figured to catch a little rest than at the beach? With a myriad of seaside destinations from which to choose, we set our sights on the island of Koh Phi Phi (pronounced “Ko Pee Pee”), and got on a bus early in the morning in Penang a week ago last Saturday for the long slog north across the Thai-Malaysian border and then up the Thai Peninsula.

Shortly after crossing the border, we stopped at a gas station to refuel. When we pulled up to the pump a barefoot teenager wearing a grimy pair of pink Minnie Mouse boxer shorts and a black T-shirt that said “Hip Hop: The Sound You Cannot Stop” lifted the hose from its cradle on the diesel pump, stuck it into the tank on our bus, and yawned sleepily as the digits twirled on the pump’s dial. “Damn,” I thought, peering out the window at the kid, “it sure feels good to be back in Thailand.” A few hours later we arrived in Krabi, the beach town on Thailand’s west coast from which ferries depart on the 25-mile trip out into the Andaman Sea to Koh Phi Phi.

Before coming to Koh Phi Phi we used to see postcards of the island in Bangkok trinket shops. Every time I looked at them I’d think, “Nah, that’s been Photoshopped. There’s no way the water and the colors could really look like that.” Well, they do. Bobbing like a jungle-clad cork in the crystal clear emerald green waters of the Andaman Sea, hemmed in by towering limestone cliffs and coral reefs, Koh Phi Phi surely is one of the most stupefyingly beautiful places on Earth.

The main Island, Koh Phi Phi Don, is really two separate islands connected by a narrow isthmus of powdery soft sand about 200 yards wide and a quarter-mile long. It was uninhabited until the 1940s when a number of families of Muslim fishermen built a small village on the isthmus. Later the island became a private coconut plantation. It wasn’t until the 1980s that the first trickle of intrepid travelers began showing up and the island slowly began to develop infrastructure and services for tourists. Everything changed irrevocably in 2000 when the Leonardo DiCaprio film, The Beach, was filmed on neighboring Koh Phi Phi Leh, a still uninhabited island about a mile south of Phi Phi Don. Since that time Koh Phi Phi has evolved into a thriving beach getaway, with rapid and unregulated development threatening both its ecosystem and its ambiance.

But despite the hordes of bohemian beach freaks and sun worshipers that descend upon Koh Phi Phi year round, it’s far from spoiled and thus far has managed to retain its laid back Utopian vibe. Part of this is no doubt due to the fact that the majority of the island is covered in thick jungle and sheer rock cliffs, keeping the development contained on the flat strip of sand separating Ao Lo Dalam bay and Ao Ton Sai bay. The other saving grace is that motorized vehicles are not permitted on the island. The streets in town are little more than sandy walking paths, and everyone gets around on foot or by bicycle. Even supplies offloaded from boats at the pier are ferried to restaurants and hotels in steel carts lugged by muscular local kids. And at least for now, no high-rise condos or resorts exist. But there is much concern that Koh Phi Phi, like so many other beautiful places, eventually will be loved to death by the ever-increasing onslaught of visitors.

In 2004 Koh Phi Phi was devastated by the tsunami that pounded much of Southeast Asia’s coastline. The isthmus on which the town is built is perhaps five or six feet above sea-level. At approximately 10:30AM on the morning of December 26, 2004, a wall of water 18-feet high washed over the town, taking with it almost every structure on the island. At the time there reportedly were close to 10,000 people—both visitors and locals—on the island. More than a thousand perished or simply vanished. Following the disaster the island was evacuated and remained uninhabited for almost a year during which time the mountains of wreckage and debris were cleared and reconstruction began. The island has long since rebuilt and nowadays things are back to normal. In fact the only tangible evidence of the destruction of eight years ago are the chilling signs all over town pointing up the hill that say “In Case of Earthquake, Go To Higher Ground.”

We spent four and a half days on Koh Phi Phi kayaking, snorkeling, sipping cold bottles of Singha Beer in the shade of palm-thatched beach bars, watching Speedo-clad Europeans roasting themselves on the talcum-white sand, and generally resting and relaxing. It’s the kind of place where you could easily find yourself seduced by “island time” and wake up several weeks later wondering where all those languid days went. But after recharging from the weariness of being on the road we knew it was time to go, despite the pang of yearning to while away just a few more days in paradise.

So last Wednesday we boarded the 3:30PM ferry back to the mainland and got on a 14-hour overnight bus to Bangkok where we ran a few errands, did some laundry and dropped off a bunch of stuff we’d been toting around the last five weeks. Tonight we get on an overnight train up to Nong Khai on the Mekong River for a two-week loop around the northeastern province of Isan and a quick jaunt into either Laos or Cambodia, depending on which border crossing we end up nearest. After that it’s back to Bangkok for a couple of weeks before heading home.